Pamela's Monster
by Orries A Writer
Summary: 50 years exactly. I can't find any evidence of Camp Crystal Lake before then. I am a cryptozoologist and I am here to unravel the secrets of the Crystal Lake Killer. Is he really a Myth, an urban one at that, or I am walking to my death?
1. Prologue The Bitter End

**Prologue - The Bitter End**

So there she stood, her life in mere seconds of death. How did she ever think that this would be a glorious return to the community, or that the tape would go unnoticed from that clever bastard's mind? She knew this was going to be the single most excruciating pain she had ever felt, yet even then it didn't stop her lashing out; flailing her arms wildly and making enough noise to deafen the thing behind the solid white mask. Pamela's monster truly was the root of all the problems here, but then why was it, that she felt that she was deserving of this brutal assault?

Through the fog of the screaming, growls of the dead, pleas for help, and the pain; the only thing that was clear, was that she hadn't wasted her life on her ambitions. She hoped that somewhere, a piece of her evidence had survived, and would be found under the shrubs.

She could almost envision it already: It would be passed out of camp, replanted and cared for by others, until at last it could become a tree of knowledge for all the world to gaze upon, and for the young to pick the fruits of her bloody labour and marvel at her toil.

But Jason Vorhees had found all the tapes... He had burned all the negative photographic paper, and he had smashed her face with her flashy little camera until everything was little more than a broken skull and fragmented brain mixed jaggedly with glass shards, plastic and metal shrapnel.

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**Loveable Author Note:** I've started at the end, yes. It's brief and confusing and may hurt your eyes, but stick with me, this gets bigger and better as it goes on. The next chapter will start at the very beginning, so think of this as a looped story. You could read the events in a big circle, so that the end of the very last chapter and the start of this first prologue all match up in perfct sequence once finished. Love it readers, there's really not much else you can do, well.... You could maybe review?


	2. Ch 1 Pure Morning

_**Chapter One- Pure Morning**_

Night had settled a long time ago, the morning creeping towards our tiny vehicle as it trudged on through the inky black trails of fog in the road. It was always the same gig. I demanded to go and my cousin would comply. He drove me miles that day, and then we lost track on the third. We pumped gas on the forth and a working week later we had found the middle of nowhere. We drove now in the night once more, for I had developed a solid plan to find my location without putting my best friend and closest relative at harms way. That's how it always should be, those who want danger can go and piss away their lives, but to harm the helpers is wrong and not a light matter with me.

"Don't wait for me. Don't drive recklessly. Don't drive too close to the dirt track. From what I've learned, this killer is far surpassed every human sense and can tell when people are coming to his lake." My voice is quiet, and my hands shake under the quilt I rest under as we drive on in the colder air.

The tension was mounting up in the tiny car. The thick silence that made him turn on the radio loud, but I turned it down, almost quivering with the fear and excitement that I may meet the fabled monster from camp crystal lake.

"That's bullshit Paige. There's no such thing" There's silence again. If he can't have his music up, he can't have his music at all. He turned the dial and tuned the radio out with a bored huff. To be fair, the driving was killing the both of us. We wanted to get out and stretch but at night I dare not move too much on foot for fear our car gets broken. I read too much into the minds of the criminals and I know that despite the tales of Pamela's monster being retarded, I would never put it past the guy to know how to wreck a car.

"You always say that." I sigh and light up a thin cigarette, the smoke and nicotine getting right into my system the moment I swallow. I needed it to stay calmer, rather than more alert. Needless to say I was on edge, and I was glad I had a two mile walk at dawn before reaching the camp. It would tire me out, and I would be grateful for the slow pace that would enable me to map the location mentally. I was the tip of the light spark up a pretty red colour, and then watch the side mirror as the ash scatters into the dark.

It had taken years of research, or rumour, of true bullshit to the scarily realistic to get me the exact point of Camp Crystal Lake, but a 'Cryptozoo'-ologist can find the unfindable, and hunt the impossible. I refer to the crazy people you find on the internet, who have run with Big Foot in the trees of God-knows where, and those who have swam with Nessie in the tiny pool of water that would not sustain the animal if the facts were true. But this killer was so vivid that it felt real, and a woman's instinct is not really a thing to mock.

My instinct had lead me in the right direction at all times, sometimes so powerfully that I felt that Fate's hands were literally shoving me into my next opportunity. I always knew how to determine my options. The good from the bad, the grander scheme from the piss poor fails, and yet lately it felt like I was in the latter of my options. I mean, who really wants to devote their lives to finding the unfindable? A UFO sure, or even Big Foot, one of the several missing links from evolution in my own theory. But when you don't know what you're looking for, instinct counts for shit.

It's how I felt until I heard about the people that went missing, and that the ones that went camping seemed to all end up in one cosy little town before they all disappeared. Country hicks pissed off with the city slacker's I figured first, but then the missing posters also wound up with one or two homicide cases. I tried to look into it but all the police said to leave it be. So I had to pick up my trusty compass, about three outfits and some water and off I went. I would find these children, I promised myself I would!

Then came the reports of Camp Blood, otherwise known as Camp Crystal Lake. I'd never heard of it, yet apparently this deadly camp was only a short distance from the sleepy little town. So even an idiot could work this out now. Take one group of kids that like camping out. Get your pissed off hicks to make up a ghost story. Get the kids interested to go down to the old lake. Kill the kids and report it in as missing. Great plan 'ya genius country bumpkins!

But then came the other reports. A dead boy turned un-dead man that hunts down and kills anyone who dares to trespass. Well I thought I had it all covered until this ghost story became a good back story. I gathered materials and locked myself up in my room for weeks. I didn't even sleep at one point because of being so engrossed with this zombie slasher. They named him Jason Vorhees, and from there I started my articles. "The Blood-Thirsty Beast- Is He Still Here Now?" "Camp Crystal Killer? Or Just Too Much Crystal Meath?" finally I found my title:

"**Pamela's Monster, The Modern Day Frankenstein!**"

Granted it sounds crude. But the interest that gathered over the following days was ridiculous. I had only invented that name and already there was a buzz surrounding it like a swarm of angry hornets. I had to make this my claim to fame, even if the man in the mask was just some mad serial killer. If I could expose this so called 'true evil' then maybe I had a chance to turn my life around. I was bored of eating on my knees and sitting on an upturned milk crate whilst I sold my prized family heirlooms for rent money.

"Okay. We're here." My cousin woke me as I vaguely registered that the car had stopped. An inn just by my right had on only one light, and the sign vacancy on the porch. I smile at this small detail, always have done since I was small. I got out of the car and finally let my joints groan out in agony and I heard my bones snapping and crunching back into their natural positions. Ah! it felt good to be out of that box on wheels!

"Where is here again?" I grin, knowing damn well that we both had no clue, and both loved the adventure of it. We took our belongings and moved into the porch, rudely knocking as loud as we could to irritate the town that was now our playground. The sleepy owner of the house opened up and ushered us through in a hurry. She looked frightened, just as any gullible victim of ghost stories did. My cousin and I looked at each other without a word, we knew this look, had seen it lots before.

"You kids, at your age! You shouldn't be out here at night on your own together, Jason will get 'cha!"

"You know 'mam... We may be together alone, but we are not _'alone together'_. Contrary to what you hicks believe, dating your cousin is both disgusting and counted as incestuous in most countries outside of your little world." I started, brewing up quite the flush in my hosts eyes. I'd pissed her off good enough to get the truth from her. "We wanted to stay here for one night, and to be gone in a few short hours. I'm going to look for Camp Crystal Lake, and this oh-so popular Jason, whilst my cousin here grabs some gear and enough petrol to get us the fuck out of here once we've exposed this bullshit for what it is."

"Then on your own head's be it you idiots." The woman scolded, then continued before trusty cousin and myself could make eye contact again and laugh openly. "The room will cost you $40"

"That's all? Christ we brought so much more than that. If we make $50 would you wake us up at the crack of dawn?"

"$60 and you got a deal."

"You're one mean old grandma," I shrugged and forked over the cash in bills, my saved wages for this trip seeping out of my pocket and on to her little coffee table she kept next to her umbrella stand. "But we need the sleep so you win without a fight this time."

So sleep we did, all sixty dollars worth as the night passed through without a sound. It took a little getting used to, as normally I had traffic, street lamps and drunks to batter my senses every time I so much as attempted to fall into rest. Yet here it was perfectly silent, and eerie. A place were sleep had a stronger power to overtake the mind and throw it into the ever powerful R.E.M state.

Yet morning came, and with it the fierce banging on the wooden frame from the little old lady on the opposite side. It was still dark, just as I wanted it and I could only smile through my groggy state at the old woman. She was definitely one of a kind and was certainly getting her own back on us for waking her in the middle of the night.

I got dressed quickly, knowing I had little time to get to camp, set up the cameras, and stay hidden from whatever was supposed to be out there. My cousin started to pack up, but he didn't move from his bed after that. He was waiting on me, and even if he went driving in his boxers, he would not get dressed just for a two minute drive to my destination and back again. Bless him.

But that's how it was, I was on my way to the signposts for Camp Crystal Lake, and he was driving back the way he came, putting a good distance between us. Just as I wanted from him. He was told that if I didn't come back after a month, he was to drive away and tell people I died in an accident with a bear, the body falling into the river and never being found. I figured that would make sense and he didn't question it.

So I walked through the sun, through the shade and kept my eyes peeled for a flash of white, or a sudden movement in the hedges, without making my eyes strain though... That would dull my senses, and heighten my paranoia of this whole damn sherade.

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**Loveable Authors Note**: Well there you go. Simple, and explaintory of the main character who you should all now be calling 'Paige'. The cousin is just called cousin and I don't think he show's up again, but if he does you can just call him: Eddie.


	3. Ch 2 Taste In Men

_**Chapter Two: Taste In Men**_

The sunlight was gaining on me and sunning my back a hot pink. Trust me to not put any sunscreen on today of all days. Gnats and other floating insects bothered me constantly and clapping my hands together to squish the little buggers was probably the most exciting thing to happen to me.

That's what got me thinking about this Jason character. Maybe the hicks were bored and wanted to design a feature that would entertain those who visited this tiny place. After all so far it had been a diner, a motorway route and trees to stare at. I took my bottled water out and took yet another sip of the refreshing liquid; if I wasn't careful I would need to go to the bathroom… But there wasn't one for miles.

I finally gave into my urge; I couldn't hold it in any longer. I stepped off the main road and squatted near a tree to do my business. I hated being a girl when it came to this sort of thing, it would be so much easier to be a bloke, to just take a piss standing up and make less of a mess around me. I sighed and tapped my fingers against the harsh tree bark, noting how it had been cut back. As I looked around I realised this was another dirt track, and once finished I wanted to know where this would lead me.

But I pondered the possibilities of actually getting to the right place, of being able to avoid the 'infamous' killer that so far, I hadn't seen any trace of. At least with Big Foot someone was smart enough to make huge footprint boots and go stomping around for people to give chase, yet with Jason the killer… There was nothing.

Perhaps this guy was smarter than first thought… Maybe he laid traps and waited in the dark, after all that old lady did say it was far more dangerous to be out at night. Still I shook it off and-

"OH! Jesus Christ Paige!!" I yelled as I felt my own piss dribble on my leg. I grunted with annoyance and grabbed my facecloth from out of my bag, drying myself in the most undignified position. I was fuming at myself, and God knows I would never tell this part of the story to anyone. Pulling my pants back up and throwing my facecloth into a plastic bag, I grumbled on at myself whilst I looked up for that telltale sign of civilisation.

That's when my grumbling stopped, because there it was. A wooden sign all beaten and moss covered, with the words "Welcome To Camp Crystal Lake" with some of the letters covered. I had found Camp Crystal Lake, AND taken a wicked slash on a tree by its' entrance. Well at least there was one sign to prove it was real that wouldn't embarrass me in front of thousands of strangers when I gave my speech on the Camp's mythical monster. So I walked back outwards towards the lane and got out my trusty camera. I took a picture of the motorway in both directions, jotted the time and miles walked from the town in my journal and walked back down into the shade of the Camp's sign. My camera snapped a few more pictures, one with the moss over it, and then another with the moss moved away by my hands. One shot had my thumb over the lens and I cursed. I couldn't use that at all. I tried a few more and got the right angle. I would have to practise my action shots if I did find Jason, after all, I don't think he'd be the type to strike a pose for my picture, or take his mask off and smile with me like on a night out with friends.

Still as I got through the lane, I smiled at the simple beauty of the lake, and snapped some more photos. The lake itself was gorgeous, and although I couldn't put my camera in the water, I could still use this as part of my presentation. I jotted down the approximate size of the lake, and from that tried to distinguish its' depth. I read somewhere on a police report that whilst the boats tried to fish for the kid's body, the chief had regrettably told Pamela that the lake was full of caves.

I thought that a new theory might be possible. Jason Voorhees never died; instead the kid washed up in one of these caves, and lived off what he could. Somewhere along the line this kid ate or drank something that was good for him, full of nutrients and whatnot, and his body grew over the years until he became this strong guy that everyone was scared of. They mentioned that the killer was tall, built and constantly going, never stopping to rest.

But I think Jason did rest, I think he knew how to conserve this energy to lunge at his opponents or victims, and attack them before they got the chance to attack him first. Well I wouldn't stay out for long, not where he could see me and plot. I would capture this man in photographic glory before he could capture me in his bloody web of death.

I was curious as to why he always had that mask on. Surely if he was as disturbing as the people say, then he wouldn't need a human shaped mask to inflict fear. I started to wonder if there was more to the mask than in the stories, and started my way into the cabins, finding one that would keep me under the radar.

Eventually I found a cabin that had nothing. It was still new though, but there were no lights, no bedding, nothing that would make it difficult to hide my existence. For example, if I needed to move a beer can from the floor every time I wanted to go in or out of a room, then notably this 'killer' would notice if I moved it even a tad to the right or left. But this cabin was as bare as the day of construction, with the nails all perfectly in line in the wood, the bed frame just that without a mattress and most importantly the windows were like postage stamps.

I loved it, and had it been a house for sale, I would've bought it there and then. However this was a mere cabin for rent and so I earned my squatters rights to live here, avoiding the world and it's mystery, and in turn the cabin offered me solitude with the perfect amount of everything for my survival and my camera's perfect shots.

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**Lovable Authors Note**: Hmm... Where to go from here? Tell ya what... I'll add in an awesome graphically stunning slash up scene? Of course I shall!


	4. Ch 3 Teenage Angst

_**Chapter 3 – Teenage Angst**_

The days went on by, slowly and silently. I didn't hear heavy footsteps outside my cabin door. I didn't hear deep breathing in a pattern as the reading suggests. I moved about freely in the day, setting up handy cams in the camp like surveillance cameras, the tapes inside all protected from rain with thin sheets of plastic. It may not hold but I didn't expect anything to be picked up or shown through them.

My main camera, a Cannon E0S-53 stayed with me at all times, the weight in my hand enough to remind me why I was there. I also carried a small wind-on Polaroid camera, so that I could take some blurrier photos if my main equipment came to harm's way, heaven forbid.

But during the night, I would still huddle in a corner and stay silent, stay out of the way and I would also wrap myself in a blanket that I had left under the cabin logs. I wanted to smell the exact same, to fool the killer's senses and to make myself, more or less invisible to him. Granted I knew he could see, but I wasn't exactly advertising myself by lighting fires, taking shampoo filled baths and making lots of noise.

That was for the daytime.

But throughout one night, I heard noises of a car engine and music with a bass strong enough to make the windows rattle. I got up quietly and stood on the bed frame that I had moved earlier so that I could peek outside of the cabin. There were teenagers everywhere, girls and boys equalled in amount, and enough beer for a long weekend. I figured it must've been a Friday, or maybe a Saturday, but I daren't turn on my phone to find out.

They yelled, started fires and generally advertised themselves, so I watched with a steadily beating heart and most importantly got my camera. I took photos, hoping these kids wouldn't mind being part of my research. Soon they had settled down with the beers, and I could smell hotdogs. Oh man was I hungry… I could go for one of those right now. Maybe I could join them, make up some bullshit about being part of the camp, get myself a beer and a joint… But they were talking about something, and then it seemed serious.

I watched patiently, remembering the camera that was recording out there. I smiled to myself and sat down again, my butt perched lightly on the bed-frame, my legs doing most of the work to keep me from falling straight through the gap it presented for the mattress. I then started to hear it, a noise like no other.

The trudging of heavy boots and a breath that almost seemed to be a hum of "Ke" "Ku" and "Hah". I grabbed my camera, and positioned once more at the edge of the window, straining my ears to listen for the noise. I watched the kids get up and wonder around, each one on edge. I snapped more photos.

Something was in the distance; I noticed it as I double-checked my pictures in the preview window. I took my camera back into live mode, and zoomed up to 20 times inwards. There was a man in a white mask! Something glimmered by his side and I took note it was a knife of some sort. Anxious not to miss a beat, I scribbled violently into my journal and then let it fall through the gap in the floorboards. I wanted my notes to survive intact, no matter what happened.

The tension made me move my neck so it would crack, and I peered through my looking glass once more, observing the chaos through a machine rather than my own eyes. It made it more bearable you know, when I saw the first strike of that killer's knife. It was like a fountain of liquid in the night as the first girl died. She had screamed in terror the instant she noticed him walking forth- but to no avail. This man slashed out in a perfect precision of judgement, and as she flinched back he changed his angle with the anticipation and ripped straight into her chest.

The sound of her flesh penetrated with the blade was almost sickening, and if not for my desire to capture this man on film, I would've thrown up and run away all the way back to my safe but shitty shoe-box flat. As I watched through the camera I noticed he was carving a path towards me, not necessarily the window I was peeking through, but the cabin by me. His hands twisted off limbs as his blade shattered the ribs of someone the murderer threw it at. It was like a delicate dance, and everyone around him was getting the steps wrong, resulting in the injuries received. No doubt the impacts caused were supposed to, but even so I couldn't help thinking 'Just move to your left and he'll miss. Just step back rather than run through. Just stop screaming and think for a moment. Just stay calm.'

But it was far too easy to think that way when Jason Voorhees isn't after you.

He made his way up the cabin steps and I felt his presence of sheer intent outside before he threw the door inwards to the corridor. If I had tried to run, that very door would've killed me. That's perhaps what Jason was waiting for, and it terrified me to know that he knew how the mind worked when in danger. He understood that something caused humans to panic, and something caused them to stand and fight him, or scream, cry, and run from him. I had every intention of running…. But he had the only way out blocked.

His stance was petrifying, his legs apart to keep his sheer height and weight from toppling over. His chest was gashed and bloody, but he didn't seem to be in pain, his mask really was a mucky white, splattered with the blood of his victims, and un-smeared from him not wiping it off. This was the killer I was waiting for, and the myth was furthest from being a myth. My finger slipped slightly as I gripped my camera, and I raised it as I stepped forwards. For a moment Jason seemed confused and I pressed the button to discreetly snap one final shot before taking out the film in the dark and pocketing it. Perhaps that way my legend would live on when they find my corpse. But as the shutter clicked, the flash went off and I suddenly realised what my finger had slipped on to.

Jason reared as the sudden light hit his only good eye, he staggered and I ran forwards. He slashed out, but I was glad I had watched his move, so that I knew how to move without getting hurt. I dropped to my knees as I skidded forth and bent my back all the way so my hair skimmed the floor, I passed through his legs, got up, staggered and than ran like a scared little bitch.

"CHRIST IN HELL!!" I was laughing like a madman… Shit I must've been out of my mind. I could hear him behind me, he wasn't laughing, he was pissed off but he hadn't said a word since he set his only good eye on me. There were questions raised as to why Jason had jumped into the lake and drowned, and not yelled for help. Pamela said he couldn't- his voice didn't work.

So he was smart, but mute. He didn't rest, but he was still human. He loved to kill without remorse, and he liked to give chase without giving up.

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**Lovable Authors Note:** Could be better- i'll admit, but it's here. It's done. Review to keep my Inner-Jason happy!


	5. Ch 4 Every You Every Me

_**Chapter 4 – Every You Every Me**_

I jumped slightly as I dashed through the camp full of dead bodies. The blood made me slip just once before I corrected my mistake and adjusted the amount of pressure I was to throw on the ground with my footsteps. But even with that I didn't feel like I was gaining any speed.

As I ran I noted the eyes strewn around, as if Jason had plucked them and then thrown them away without thinking, which lead me to believe that he was not much of a trophy killer. Most serial killers were, they held an object or item or took a photo of their kill to keep it. These trophies would very often be kept as their prize, and if not careful their prize would then become evidence used against them. The trophy of their kill is not the same as the signature of their kill though; so don't get confused as I explain this to you.

Jason's signature was obvious enough. He liked to disfigure his victims, and if they gained enough respect he just killed them outright. Those teenagers from before died in a mass of broken bones and gore, with no possible way for anyone to know how many bodies their were, or who they belonged to. One body however had lashed out and back at him, but all that was left now was a gashed head, and multiple stabs to his back.

I felt pretty bad for those guys now, since I was no longer looking through my lens and taking the best shot, I was now the chased human just like them, and it felt awful. I just hoped that this would be enough to tire the man out, so that his kill would be effort for him, and I wouldn't have to suffer for long.

I took a sharp left, then zigzagged back to the original course that I stayed on. Jason had fallen for my fluke, and ran off in the other direction. I slowed for the time and doubled back on myself, grabbed mini camera from the tree I left it in, and removed the plastic sheet from it. I dragged my ass under the cabin and retrieved my journal writing in my final entry of how I had just escaped him. I took one picture of my sweat-ridden face with the fear in my eyes too true to be faked, my face frozen in perpetual anxiety for as long as the film existed. I realised it was dark enough to remove the film-reel.

But if I did that the camera would make a shit load of noise. Fuck it, I'll do it and then crawl on my belly to the other side, wriggle free and run on the main road until dawn. I could do this. "C'mon Paige…." I whispered lightly, the camera whirring loudly and assaulting her senses. She was breathing hard and trying not to panic. But who wouldn't panic when that white mask looks at you side on, and a big burly hand reaches forwards to drag you out. Paige lashed with her own arm, which the brute grabbed and yanked hard.

There was silence as the film clicked into place, and then all hell broke out. Her arm snapped in the dark, her other hand grabbed the reeled in photo film, and she let herself scream in the pain, embracing it for only a second to get her blood pumping before she threw herself outwards, kicked Jason in the face and wriggled for dear life. She looked back only once, knowing that he wouldn't be there, but he was. He never looked back since that point, never wanting to feel that he was in front of her. She ran back into the foliage, the woodland her only guide as to where she would end up next. She hoped it wouldn't lead her into the hands of Pamela's Monster.


	6. Ch 5 Black Eyed

_**Chapter 5 – Black Eyed**_

As the dawn reached he paled and fearful face, Paige felt the cautious optimism rise along with the Sun. She had done it for one night and saved her tapes and film. But at the cost of a good arm, and there was nowhere she could go to get it fixed within the next hour. Would it kill her to try it herself?

Not so much that it would actually kill her, but what if the arm broke again, or if the pain got worse? She closed her eyes tight and muffled another cry of pain as the adrenaline ebbed away and left her drained, and alone.

It hurt with every step she took. Her lungs were burning, and her heart wouldn't slow down. Her limit wasn't budging and if she had to run away again she wouldn't be as graceful or as mobile. This would be her end, and it would be pitiful. Could she do anything at all to save herself? She would have to damn near try.

She had watched enough TV to know she needed to brace her teeth with any kind of durable substance so that when she attempted to reset, and attempted to pop the shoulder back into it's socket, that she wouldn't break her teeth or force herself to bite her tongue. It would hurt only if she told herself it would, but she had no true power to trick her mind into thinking she wasn't going to pop the bones. She smiled slightly and let herself cry, the sunlight making the tears shine brightly as she allowed herself just one moment of insanity. "I'll have to grin and bear it, or do the right thing and just put my arm back the way it was." She never was fond of talking to just herself and never thought it to be dignified to talk aloud when there was obviously no need to.

But for now, she wanted to indulge in her fear and although a liberty she didn't want to take for granted, she allowed herself to do it so much that she lessened her senses and became blissfully unaware of the man in the mask stalking her, skulking in the shade of the trees.

Jason, whilst also appreciating the virgin morning, would soon be blessed with the blood of the dammed as he walked softly, capable of letting her know when he was there without much effort. Yet she wouldn't turn around… She must be frozen in fear, no fun for the kill just yet, and so close to the road too. He didn't want all the attention from those noisy vehicles that blasted sirens and hurt his ears. Yet his thoughts were disturbed as another siren blasted loudly, a human one from the woman there.

He watched her blood drip everywhere, noticed that she was biting into a piece of bark, realised she was healing her arm. But of course, no human could heal like the way he could. They were breakable, and weak, fresh and soft to his touch. They were just as his mother had said- all freaks that only wanted the pleasures of the flesh they all shared. It really was disgusting, and this little woman before him was no different. She had attacked him when he was just going to survey her. She had blinded him and kicked him, but in her defence, she was giving him some exercise… She was playing his game very well indeed.

Her suffering would be so much fun.

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**Lovable Author's Note**: Well, well, well! It seems that Jason is out to play hard ball now =] Survival FTW! xD


	7. Ch 6 Without You Im Nothing

_**Chapter 6 – Without You, I'm Nothing**_

With my arm painfully reset in the crudest fashion, I continued on to the main road, a sense of peace running through me as I stopped running altogether. I was tired of running, and since Jason wasn't after me for the time, I felt it was safe to just keep going until I found the town again.

It was far too dangerous in my state to go back into the Camp, and I had to develop the film I had in my pocket. I placed my good hand into the pocket and felt around for the film. I didn't feel it. I threw everything out of my pockets, searching the ground desperately for my film. Where the fuck had it gone?

"Oh damn it all Paige." I shouted at myself. I screamed loudly and cursed myself, I tried to think where it may have fell, but I didn't have the strength, speed or sharp enough eyes to trail back through the woodland race track that myself and Jason had currently been on; one racing for fear of life, and one racing to claim his prized kill. This was so fucked up... I was going to die if I went back in there.

So I didn't… I wanted to and god knows I would've, but even the most rugged and war beaten would know when to seek medical assistance before flying out o fight. I sighed and continued walking; looking behind me to see if I'd dropped the film near the outskirts of the looming trees. Instead I saw Jason's boot, and as I looked up, I realised he was seething in rage. I stared at him, but he didn't move, almost as if wanting me to dare come closer, to walk back into his domain.

I kept looking, and something seemed wrong. As stupid as it seemed I walked towards him, my hand outstretched. I figured if this was going to be a trap I could still get away and he could slash off my hand or arm before getting to kill me. So I reached out and stepped forwards, Jason's angry expression still burning holes into my skull. But my fingers touched his mask. My hand placed flat onto its cheek, I frowned and fisted my hand, tapping against the mask.

This couldn't be real! None of it could be! I hand the film tightly in my grasp, Jason wouldn't stop just because it's the daytime, and he certainly wouldn't fall apart moments after. I was right in what I saw and in what I just said. Right before my eyes, the mask slipped away and in a trickle of liquid and blood, his body just fell apart into the tiny fragments of the teenagers I saw before.

I heard myself scream and I fled back the town, it took a lot less time than before, and when I got there, it was the middle of the night. I didn't understand this, not at all. I whimpered as I looked through the empty streets and found the little old lady's Inn. I banged savagely on the door, far harder than the time I just wanted to annoy her. I was panicking over nothing, but I felt like if I couldn't get through this door, that I would never be able to move out of this town.

The door finally opened and I dropped to my knees, grabbing the lady's hands and gripping on to them "You were right 'Mam… Jason wants to get me! Please let me in!!" I yelled at her, sobbing so violently I think I might've thrown up if I had continued.

"But dear… Jason already got you a month ago. You've been missing for so long, but its good to see you're still alive. Remember to listen to yourself, and stay calm." With those words of so little understanding, the old lady pushed me away from her, and slammed the door shut in my face. Everything fell black and I let myself fall all the way on to my back, my head hitting the dust sharply, and making me cry out so much that my eyes closed.

My eyes opened to the dark once more, but the throbbing pain in my head was making a light blind me. I sucked air through my teeth and stood up, using my once broken arm to rub the back of the lump that had formed on my head. I looked at my arm to realise it wasn't broken and it confused me. I looked around and I was no longer in the town, I was in the cabin… and Jason was looming right over me.

I yelped and shuffled back, my side bumping into my camera. I picked it up and looked at it, the lens was cracked and the flash had snapped away from its' holding frame. Damn, that thing was worth so much money, and now it was just a heap of broken electronics.

I looked back up at Jason, and he continued to stand there. His eye stared me down, and as I looked back at his hands to expect to find his machete, I remembered that he had dropped it somehow.

It was a slight blur but I think I realised what had happened. I took the flash photography of Jason before I went to slide under him to get free, and in his shock Jason had not reared back from me. Instead he had merely dropped his knife to grab me in the light of the flash, but instead his fist knocked me, and I had literally flown. He had an incomparable strength, by God I had never felt like I'd ever been hit by a bus or lorry before, but that hit came damn close to it without killing me.

So everything that had happened… Was a dream? Bullshit if it was, it had felt too painful to be a dream! Yet with the way things were turning out, it must've been for otherwise I wouldn't have been able to move my arm so freely, nor would I still be in the cabin. This may prove to be my second chance.

I cried out and got up, staggering from the loss of mobility from the fall. I leaned against the wall of the cabin, my hands feeling it's cool temperature and my head resting against it to calm the raging thumping I could feel. I suddenly remembered the last part of that fucked up dream and I slowed my breathing, closing my eyes to focus on my heart rate and slow it down so that I would stop panicking.

This confused Jason, I could see it straight away, he seemed to move forwards his feet stomping on the floorboards purposely to cause effect. But I didn't want to flinch, I daren't allow myself too through fear it would spark the killer into smacking me around for a while, and making my death as painful as his torture in my dream.

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**Lovable Authors Note**: Right, i re-read my work the other day so firstly SORRY FOR THE MIX UP! I went from 1st person narration, to 3rd, then back to first. Rest assured it will now stay in 1st person for the rest of the story and i can confirm that this story will only have 17 chapters. PLUS a bonus chapter if people want to read it


	8. Ch 7 This Picture

_**Chapter 7 – This Picture**_

This was so fucking degrading. I was damaged, and upset, but because I listened to my damn dreams, I was now under the arm of the Crystal Lake Killer being dragged to God knows where! I wanted to kick him… He smelled so disgusting, urgh! It was like sticking your head in a bucket of sewage and then adding a splash of rotting woodland decay.

I wanted to throw up… but for the life of me I have no idea why I didn't. Maybe I didn't want to offend him or something, not that it really mattered what I thought would or wouldn't help. It felt like he wanted to show me something, but instead he dropped me and pointed at my bag that he had previously taken away. That cheeky bastard stealing from me whilst I was out of it! Who did he think he was!

As if it wasn't bad enough I now had to sit there, he started to rummage through my stuff until he got bored where he then just picked the bag up and upturned it over my head. Before my eyes in the dim light I realised it was all the research I had been doing on him since he was first reported.

He grabbed one piece of paper from the air, snatching it away from my nose by mere inches; if he wasn't as perfect as he was at aiming with precision I think the sheer force of his movement would've broken my nose. I came to think to that he had no real control over how powerful he was, or that he was an abnormal monstrous serial killer.

But when he thrust that paper back into my hand I realised that I must've seemed so scary to him, for everywhere scattered around me were the reports of his death, of his un-dead life, of his kills, of his legend. I was a stalker of this man, and he didn't seem best pleased about it.

My eyes travelled down the page, to the small paper clipping attached with a clip on the side. Friday 13th, 1959. Jason Voorhees, beloved son, drowned in the lake. I read it over and looked up at the monster before me, docile but hardly incapable of snapping my neck in the instant.

"You are Jason Voorhees." I said, my voice sounding strange to me, as if I hadn't heard myself speak in years. The creature before me half nodded, his more delicate movements were twitchy- he was only used to moving, slashing and resting. Never before had he ever bothered to communicate with us humans. I took the paper and started to read, my voice shaky as I reeled off his death, but I became more confident as he didn't seem to want to kill me yet. " Jason Voorhees, the beloved son of Pamela Voorhees was reported as dead by police officials late into the evening of Friday 13th. It is alleged that the camp councillors who should've been on duty were away at the time." I trailed off; it never did say what those kids were doing. But Jason seemed to know. He looked like he wanted to attack something, but seeing as I was the only one reading to him with the calm that he wasn't used to, I felt that if I stopped reading he would lash at me.

I took a breath and continued on to the next sheet of paper, putting my research back into order as I went along. "Classified report:- 1980 approx. Pamela Voorhees suspected for murder in the first degree. Multiple wounds were found on the bodies of many teens, most of which were naked." I stopped for a moment and looked at the man before me, I had to find out first hand. "Were the councillors being inappropriate the day you supposedly died?"

No answer. Figures.

I continued reading to the monster, and it was only when I got to the last piece scrap of paper that Jason stopped struggling in a way that looked like he was battling against slicing me apart. "Missing: Several teenagers from a college upstate. Sources suggested that the kids had planned on camping out during the summer, but never came home. Police say that the children will have run away, but there is no evidence from parents and classmates alike that describe anything that would cause people to run away."

I pondered this last scrap of material and got out a pen from my bag without paying Jason much attention as he turned from me. I wrote swiftly 'All Missing Personnel From Colleges And High School Alike Will Be Found In Pieces At Camp Blood.' I frowned at my absent scribbling, but it made perfect sense. I also thought that if I got out of here alive, I would most certainly be placed as the murderer of this recent batch of kids that came down to the lake.

I sighed and threw my bag into the bushes, some of the leaflets scattering into the wind. I watched them fly into the dark, and wished for the first time ever, that I could be as light as the paper and just drift off into the safety of some city. Alas, I was not paper nor a bird that could fly and I was subjected to the 'mercy' of Jason.

Speaking of which, where the hell did he go?

In my time spent wondering the world outside of these trees, I hadn't noticed Jason had moved, and gone off somewhere. That wasn't right… Why would he leave me here? I wanted to panic again, but I had to just stay calm, and so I took a relaxing breath and stood. Jason wanted me to panic, to see me screaming and weak so that he had a reason to cut me down. But perhaps that was not his primary goal... Was it that he had a grudge that needed some revenge? It seemed possible, I mean if you were a kid in need that drowned because of neglect, then maybe you would get mad. But it never had Jason down in any of the reports until the more present day. It was always his mother who stole the headlines, and although they never found her it was said that in defence some teenager had in fact taken Jason's mom out with a knife.

A picture was starting to make itself known to me, but I still couldn't quite figure it out. I needed to put it in order, find a timeline to put up this new development of understanding of Jason's mentality. So I grabbed a stick and in the space I had, started drawing.

I dragged the stick along the ground first, making a line long enough to support the many branches that could jump out from it. The first branch was obvious, Jason's drowning, and the events that lead up to it, I had to go and find some more evidence of his death.

My second branch would split into the two theories. One: Jason is a zombie hell-bent on revenge of his murder. Two: Jason washed up in a cave or ashore and grew up with contempt for humanity. This wouldn't need much evidence, just enough observation of his behaviour, his eating habits, his resting state, and his ability to inexplicably regenerate. Most of these were easy to observe, but the regeneration evidence would be a step short of cutting him open myself and finding out if it heals quick enough. Doing that would surely gain me a free ticket to the 'eye for an eye' concert, and I wouldn't heal if I got sliced up as much as I planned to cut open that monster.

I sighed and continued on. I had to find evidence of what happened all those years ago. But in fifty years the landscape may have changed, the evidence of peoples clothes and hairs and DNA, all washed away by fifty years of rain and snow. There was no way of finding it out on my own and it wasn't like I could just pop back home and get the internet cables to stretch all the way back to here to do the rest of my research through rumour and running it past Jason to see if it really happened.

Still I could do this- all I had to do was keep my timeline going. So I took out another branch to add to the events and put in 'Jason's death traumatised Pamela and she seeks revenge on her son's killers. She then continued to do this at the lake, after the original kids were taken away. What is the element that makes 'the killers' kill?' A good question indeed, it was all that was left now for this little problem to all come to light.

A scream from my left made me start and jump up from my timeline. It was a male yell and a girl too… I frowned and took off in that direction; maybe this would be why Jason was killing teens off. I ran as fast as I could, the woodland becoming a blur and the wind a loud rush in my ears. My heart didn't burn in the same way it had in my dreams, but the stinging of the air against my cheeks made them flush hot pink, and it wasn't until I stopped at the scene that I realised my face was bleeding.

I had picked up tiny scratches and cuts from the twigs and holly, and the stinging was from the blood seeping through and the skin trying to heal up under the gauze. I panted my breath back and took in the sight that battered my senses.

There was a fire, and from there was a girl who was burning in a bag of some sort, I couldn't tell from where I stood. The male was still screaming, his leg caught in something. I stepped out and found it to be a bear trap. My god what the hell was going on?

I moved forwards, wishing I had a way to document this new discovery, and it wasn't until I bumped past a tree that I felt an object in my trouser pocket. I reached in and pulled out my wind-on camera, in case of emergency. This seemed like a good a time as any to get on with it, so I snapped photos, even whilst the boy screamed at me for help- even as the girl burned alive. I blanked it out and kept going, writing with my blood on my hand that Jason was smart enough to use one human as a trap so that the other would be lured into catching himself on a bear trap. I grinned slightly at his genius- damn I was sick.

"What the hell happened here?" I asked the boy, seeing as I now seemed to have morals, but in reality I wanted to find out what that trigger button was for the monster still looming in the shadows somewhere.

"Please! You have to help us! Get me out of this!" The boy begged me, yet I felt no hurry to help him. I didn't want to rain on Jason's parade, I was just too awe struck by how he worked.

"Tell me what happened and then I'll let you go." I sat down and crossed my arms, waiting for him. Eventually the kid gave in and started his story.

"We were camping and I went out to get some beer for my girl." He looked over at the burned remains of his girlfriend. "I came back and she was screaming for help, I ran forwards and this damn trap was in the way. I had no idea it was there!"

"What were you and your girl doing so far out?" I asked him, thinking I was getting the picture very clearly indeed. The boy wanted to shift, to move away from my gaze, but he couldn't, not with that trap on his limb.

"We were just fooling around, we were gonna' have a good time."

"I bet. Tell me, what do you know of the Crystal Lake Killer?" I was so anxious to get this, to figure out and expose everything about Jason Voorhees that I was losing my entire grip on reality. Why the hell wasn't I helping this poor boy? Why haven't I picked him up and helped him hobble to the road to get him an ambulance?

It was because I was sick, but I didn't know it yet.

The boy yelled out in agony as he tried to remove the trap himself, but upon failing he stopped and faced me, finally giving me my answer. "You mean Jason? He does this because he hates sex, didn't you know the story that the councillors were doing it someplace when he drowned?"

Aha… So when these two were about to get themselves their 'good time' Jason came forth and kicked the shit out of them. Then perhaps this is why I haven't died yet… He had not seen me partake in any activities that would discriminate me as the evil he saw in people. I doubted that even if I acted like I didn't know what sex was; he would still find an excuse to kill me. I sighed and stood up; I left the boy out in the wilderness to die by whatever found him first, either the wolves or Jason would be most likely.

As I walked away the boy screamed to look out, but I had missed it completely and Jason hit me down again, I didn't pass out as before but it still felt as harsh as the first time, I blinked as I lay on my back and he kicked me a few feet, possibly aiming for the fire. But I had hit into the boy, and he had saved me from the burning. I staggered up and growled, quite pissed off that he was still trying to kill me and hadn't just done it already!

"You stupid fucker trying to kill me! I should've been dead ages ago! What twat spends all this time messing around for? Stop being such a pussy!" I had reached my limit.

I believed that there is an animal in all humans, and every single day we are faced with options that present urges in that animal, but as social beings we maintain that beast with coffee, work, play, beer or anything that would take our minds away from lashing out at others. As a more peaceful person I had never felt the need to hurt another, but with everything that had happened I was finally ready to embrace my wild side, and I was pissed off with this idiot of a man.

I ran at Pamela's Monster, and stupidly I thought I'd be able to tackle him down and kick him or something. This is what really happened:

I ran at him fast as I could, slammed hard headfirst into his chest, he then grabbed against my hair and threw me back down. I repeated this until I was tired and as the man could read humans like a book, he took advantage of this dilemma I had and tossed me about for a while until he was bored.

I was battered, bruised, broken and bleeding. This was my body's limit, and even if I wanted to keep going, I was at my end. I faced up, watching his form come closer, waited for his knife to cut through me, to finally get this damn nightmare over with. But the killer still wouldn't do the deed. It was confusing for me, much like it must've been confusing for Jason to see a human try so hard to defy his wrath.

I doubt it was respect or mercy that stopped this man from killing me the third time around, but I definitely didn't like the fact that he was dragging me again. This time he grabbed me by my feet, both of them so I couldn't kick out at him. I was dragged all the way through the mud and dust, through the thick and thin of the shrubbery and even thrown over a few trees. My body was aching and my head was starting to kill me. I wanted out of this and fast.

I finally wanted to die.

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**Lovable Authors Note**: Confusing, and probably a little confusing, but we're starting to realize that this is a story full of fun! xD well not really, and yes i know i used a scene from the remake, but to be fair that is like the best part of Jason's intelect! Review for me please!


	9. Ch 8 Special K

_**Chapter 8 – Special K**_

I awoke again, this time in a place I hadn't seen before, a place that was still a cabin, yet more than that. There were all sorts of things on the shelving, and a room somewhere off to my right with an incredible feeling of warmth. I looked over and saw a couple of candles but nothing more. I wanted to go that way, I wanted to look at it all, but as I started to go that way from picking myself up off of the floor, my tormentor cut me off.

Jason grabbed me and threw me back into the dark of the current room. I curled up and let myself fall into the corner, the side of my head rested as I lost the ability to care if I lived or not. As far as I was concerned I was turning into a hibernating rodent, starving slowly because I didn't have enough food to last, all because Jason had taken it away.

Still it could've been worse, so far it appeared he didn't mean to cause me much more harm, nothing more than enough to keep me from causing him trouble and it was fair to say… I was done with looking for trouble.

But it seemed he was not done with tormenting my very fed up soul. He walked with purpose and presented himself as the killer he was known as, even through my tired state my survivalist instinct still rose up and made me yell out, my body frozen but my heart pounding. Jason fisted one of his beast-like paws and threw it forth, smashing it into the side of the cabin by my head. The impact sent a distinct ringing into my ear, and I flinched like mad, possibly from my knees to get up.

Yet I was still there, my eyes squeezed shut and my head bowed slightly, my heart slowing and the tired lack of motivation returned. I opened my eyes wearily and then almost had a heart attack. Jason was close enough to touch, just like in my dream, but he wasn't going to fall apart if I touched him, mainly because I was too scared to even move.

His smell got into my nose again; so overpowering it was that every time I tried to breath in I could practically taste it in my mouth. I heaved and pushed the beast away, my guts spilling over the floor with a splattering noise that made me feel even worse. I wretched and with tears in my eyes I watched my own puke decorate the ground.

The sight seemed to please Jason, and I wanted to have not pushed him back, I felt like I should've just thrown up on his damn mask. Smug-assed bastard thought that this was how it should be. I'd do something to show him- I had no clue what I could do right now though, so instead I crawled away and meekly rested against the flat of the wall. The bulky male stood and went away, into that light and warm room. It seemed inviting in there, yet if that were where Jason went, then I would have to stay as far away from that place as possible.

"I had to do everything that Jason expects, but in the opposite. It should get him off my back… Damn son-of-a-bitch." I spoke once more to myself; my insanity was reaching new heights, and yet it seemed like a big fluffy blanket that I could wrap myself in and just forget what being sane was all about. So with my final thoughts I lay back into rest.

I distinctly remember hitting something slightly warm and squishy but by then I was far too past it to care what it was.

It was only when I woke up the following morning, and scratched my head that I realised I had fallen asleep in my own puke. Jason was staring at it, at my hair covered in the stuff, and my hand now slightly gross because of the chunks of whatever it was I had brushed out. I stared at him and sighed and decided a conversation might pass the time that he spent just standing there.

"This is not the first time this has happened you know. I went through a stage in my life where I drank so much to forget my troubles that sleeping on a pillow full of bile became a weekly occurrence."

Jason was indifferent to my cause. I shrugged and stretched upwards, my top ebbing up my body and showing off my pale belly to the man before me. He crooked his head to the side and glared at something. I threw my top back down but he was already a step ahead.

He grabbed the cloth and poked violently under my belly button. I yawned and looked down, my sad and lonely memories rushing back. I didn't like that fact he was poking my scar, the one from my C-Section gone wrong. I glared at him and slapped his hand away, placing both my hands over my now covered belly.

I looked away and ignored the monster staring at me with such disregard.

"It's a surgical scar genius, I didn't do it to myself!" I yelled back, I felt so bare and defenceless under his gaze, and I hated it. "I had a problem and they cut into me to make it all better." I continued, but had no idea why I should tell this thing my woes. I sighed and looked into my pockets, pulling out my camera. I took it out and mulled over the possibility of taking another picture of him whilst he was in this passive condition.. But he poked into my stomach again and I sighed. He wasn't going to drop it.

I put away my camera and started at the beginning. "Well fine, but don't blame me when you're falling asleep from boredom!" I looked away for a moment, thinking about the best possible place to start. "I was pregnant with a child."

I decided would be the best opener. But that confused the poor beast so I had to clarify with him. "Hey! Twenty six is a great age to have a baby!" True I was no spring chicken anymore, not like these teenagers he had taken to so fondly ripping apart for a light workout.

"Anyway, I was supposed to have a little baby of my own, but when it came to the deadline, he wasn't ready to be born. The doctors preformed a C-Section on me, but cut too far along, which meant that when they stitched me back up, it was an obvious mark of their mistakes."

Jason looked at me differently and it put me on edge, it was like he suddenly didn't see me as an adult, but a mother. Sadly that would change- I never thought of myself a mom, or even a good parent.

"I spent some time with my child. But he never left the hospital, he was very ill from the start, and it wasn't long until he died… He never even knew what the sun looked like, and he never took enough breaths to learn how to speak. He was still my baby though, and after I lost him I never could bring myself to move on."

I mulled it over once more, and put comparison into my life and Pamela's. Even though I never got my child home, I always wanted him to have a good life, and in the respective way of looking at that, so did Pam.

She had kept Jason safe all that time, and until she took him to the lake, Jason must've been quite happy to be with his mother. She was so hung up over Jason's supposed death that she had taken to killing people off. I doubt I ever would've taken it that far, but my life had felt so empty without my child. Both of us never had a man to help us either, it was reported that Pamela showed up in this town alone and never said anything about the man who knocked her up.

I think Jason understood that much, but that didn't stop him from being a monster. It didn't stop Pamela from being a murderer and it didn't stop me from being a victim. Then again, what kind of victim would share her life with her captor? Shit… A victim with Stockholm syndrome would! I was dirty and ill and had Stockholm syndrome… This would not be the easiest thing to deal with whilst all on my own. I had to get free.

The problem was that I think Jason saw that glint of human hope in my eyes and he didn't like that at all. He smashed into the side of the cabin again, trying to rattle my cage big time, but this time I was ready, and against all my nerves I stayed still, which annoyed him quite a lot. He thrashed out again, and I ignored him, he tried to make this strange sort of growling noise, almost like he wanted to yell at me, and although it was easy to admit I was more scared than before, I ignored him. But that didn't mean he was going to go away that quickly.

Jason Voorhees was the type who persevered until he was allowed to get what he wanted.

So long as I never gave him the satisfaction, he would continue to wear himself out on trying to scare me.

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**Lovable Authors Note: **Oh! i know i've copied like another scene from the remake, but whatever! ALSOI know i said 17 chapters but whilst writing i realized i could just skip some of the less important stuff so two chapters have been cut, leaving us with just... uhm- hold on let me counts on my fingers, 17... 16... 15! i did it! we now only have 15 chapters and the bonus chapter if i feel up to writing it by then. Review me please you adorable people!


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